


What Would Spider-Man Do?

by Enna_Spooky_Trash



Series: The F.O.S Code (one shots) [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Based on the Amazing Spider-Man Comic Vol. 1 #700.5, Death and Grieving, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25836295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enna_Spooky_Trash/pseuds/Enna_Spooky_Trash
Summary: He was able to sense the bullet, and he would have dodged it pretty easily too. But when a bank robbery goes awry, Peter needs to deal with the consequences as he finds a 13-year-old schoolmate dying in a hospital after he takes the shot that was intended for Spider-man all along. Based on a storyline in the Amazing Spider-man Comics. One Shot.
Relationships: May Parker & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: The F.O.S Code (one shots) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834165
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56





	What Would Spider-Man Do?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's Enna! Just a quick note before you start reading: this is almost canon-compliant. After the events of Far From Home, Mysterio does not reveal Peter's identity (he and MJ are a thing now, too), but The Daily Bugle does start making accusations against Spider-man. As mentioned in the tags, this is based on the second storyline of the Amazing Spider-Man Comics Vol. 1, #700.5, except it's all in MCU Peter Parker's point of view (because the MCU just loves making a teenager their angst punching bag). Anyway, leave some kudos/comments if you enjoyed the fic! I always love reading those! <3

To Michelle Jones it is way too clear that something is bothering Peter Parker. She really did not need their Advanced Physics teacher, Miss Warren, to call his name thrice, without any response, to figure that one out.

_"Mr. Parker, are you still with us?"_

Peter suddenly jerks up, glancing wildly around the room. His eyes widen when he sees that everyone is staring at him. He stands up hastily.

"I-I'm sorry, Miss Warren I j-just... C-could you please repeat the question?"

Flash Thompson sniggers. "Oh, it's nothing, Parker. Miss Warren's just wondering if you've already met the Avengers in your dreams."

The class giggles at this. Peter turns bright red.

"Okay, that's enough!" Miss Warren says sharply. "Peter, zone out of my discussion again and you WILL get detention."

"Sorry," Peter says in a small voice. As MJ watches him sit down she hears a _pssst_ from her left. She wheels around and sees Ned, leaning sidewards from his desk. He shoots her a meaningful look, before glancing at the still distracted Peter. By now she understands what it means; they have had plenty of wordless conversations about things you just share with each other when your mutual best friend/boyfriend is secretly a crime-fighting spider vigilante with a hero complex. That gesture in particular had been exchanged between them way too many times before. It usually meant: _What's up with him?_ And usually the answer to that is always the same.

MJ shrugs. _I don't know._

Ned frowns. She couldn't blame him.

For all the benefits that came along with it, sometimes being Spider-man's girlfriend sucks.

Something was troubling him, though, that MJ is sure of. There are dark circles under Peter's eyes, as though he barely slept a wink last night. He also looks pallid, and a lot more fidgety than usual, and when the bell finally rings for their morning break he is the first one out of the classroom, before anyone could even pack their bags.

"Okay, something really weird is going on with him," Ned remarks. He hoists his backpack on his shoulder. "Did he say anything to you this morning?"

"Nothing." They both exit the classroom and join the jostling students in the corridor. "You?"

"Nope. But he _is_ pretty out of it before the first bell." MJ sees Ned's brows furrow in concentration. "Do you think something happened during patrol? He would've told us, right?"

MJ snorts at that highly unlikely possibility. Ned had told her that ever since the incident at Europe, Peter had become vaguer whenever he is asked about any of his missions. Whenever he is with MJ, Peter does not talk about them at all, and would only give very brief summaries if she does ask, before changing the subject completely.

And it didn't help at all when a social news outlet called _The Daily Bugle_ started to paint Spider-man as a menace to the society. _The Bugle_ was loud, and insistent, and non-stop, publishing article after article of alleged damages and misdeeds Spider-man has done. At first it seemed petty, almost laughable, but as their following grew, so did their audience.

And so did their credibility.

The first few days of the _Bugle_ incrimination were particularly rough; it only took a few mentions of the blog before MJ got entirely riled up. Ned looked like he was ready to fight any student who would even dare suggest that Spider-man is evil. But if they were affected, their reactions were _nothing_ compared to Peter's. Over the next few days he grew quiet, and skittish, and distant. It was only when he started avoiding her did MJ decide that maybe he has wallowed too far into his misery. After yelling at him for being incredibly stupid if he thought that she was going to leave him especially when he is being persecuted, things more or less went back to normal, although MJ is pretty sure that Peter is still trying to handle the backlash that he has been receiving.

But still. The damage had been done. Peter, who was once so eager and carefree, so enthusiastic to be the hero that it allowed MJ to guess his identity-- that Peter is gone. This Peter is cautious, and guarded. His encounter with Mysterio, and the _Bugle's_ allegations made him closed-off. Wary.

It made him feel alone.

MJ is pulled from her reverie when a hand grips her arm and holds her back. She scowls at Ned, but he only shushes her, pointing at the tv mounted at the corridor. It takes her a second to realize that everyone else is looking too. She finds that odd. No one ever watches the Midtown Tech announcements.

_"Tigers, we are here with devastating news. Last night one of our students, 13 year-old T-Thomas Burke was s-shot during an encounter with alleged bank robbers. H-he... He..."_

Betty Brant falters. She looks like she has been crying. Jason Ionello pats her shoulder as he takes over. For once his face is serious. Grim.

_"Witnesses have said that Burke was seen running into a skirmish between Spider-man and the robbers, supposedly trying to help the crime-fighting Spider. They have also said that Spider-man himself brought Burke to the hospital. For now he is still in critical condition. May our thoughts and prayers be with him."_

MJ is faintly aware of the murmurs that have risen from the horrorstruck crowd. All she hears though is a strange, warbled static. A low ringing in her ears.

 _"Meanwhile the controversial news blog_ The Daily Bugle _had posted their statement about the unfortunate event."_

The screen glitches to J. Jonah Jameson, editor of the Bugle. There is a manic gleam in his eye. _"There you have it, folks. Spider-man could have stopped this poor child's torment, but the bastard did not even pull the child to safety. Is this the hero you have been glorifying? He couldn't even save a kid! He is a charlatan, a fraud, a clown in a silly suit--"_

"Hey that's so unfair!" Flash Thompson says heatedly. "He doesn't know that! Spider-man could have stopped the bullet if he wanted too! Maybe Jameson wants to take his place, see how he-- _watch where you're going, dickwad_!"

At this MJ's gaze lands at the only person Flash could have meant. Their eyes meet.

For a moment she sees the tortured expression on Peter's face, and then the next he is gone, lost in the sea of bodies that are still frozen, transfixed at the news report.

"God what is that man's _deal_? I mean did Spider-man ever... MJ?" Ned calls, surprised. "Hey, where are you going?"

But MJ is already walking away, squeezing past the students and into a much emptier corridor. She sees the flash of a backpack disappear from a corner and she dashes towards it, catching sight of Peter just as he flings the door of the vacant music room open. MJ hesitates, before following him inside. She shuts the door behind her.

There is silence.

"Peter?" she says softly.

Peter faces her. His eyes are red, prickling with tears.

"Jameson was right." He looks up at the ceiling, tries to blink the wetness away. When he speaks his voice cracks."It's all my fault."

MJ does not say anything. She only steps forward, and when she is near enough, hugs him tight.

And he breaks.

* * *

_It hurts to cry_ , Peter thinks.

He tells himself to _get a grip, man, you're Spider-man_ , but the tears fell anyway. His chest is burning fiercely, almost suffocating him as his shoulders continue to heave with sobs. The lump in his throat hasn't quite disappeared yet, and he is pretty sure that he could feel the dull, phantom aches in his body from the beating that he took last night. None of it matters, though. All he knows is that right now it physically hurts to breathe, because just a few miles away a kid -- _a schoolmate_ , someone who he might have passed by without any second thoughts-- is dying. Shot in a dark alleyway. And it was all because of him.

It was always because of him.

Selfishly he thinks that he should have expected this to happen. He should have been numb by now, used to the agony, because Peter has always been a screw-up, and this wasn't the first time that innocent blood is spattered on his hands. This wasn't the first time he had let someone die. He should have known, should have handled the tragedy better, and yet by all accounts he is still here, in MJ's embrace, screwing up his face against the cries of angusih that threatens to overwhelm him.

Maybe he deserves it.

Amidst his pain-induced haze Peter vaguely notices that MJ has not spoken a word ever since she has chased after him, and for that he is secretly grateful. Perhaps she was too smart to know that empty words of comfort are useless. That whatever she says wouldn't absolve Peter from his guilt.

Besides, he didn't think there is anything left to be said, anyway.

Somehow they find themselves sprawled on the floor, backs leaning against the wall. Peter's head is tucked on MJ's shoulder, her chin on his hair. For several minutes they said nothing -- in that musty old room there are no superheroes. They are just two grieving sixteen-year-olds, finding solace in each other's company.

"I've met him before, I think," MJ murmurs. Peter glances at her, but she is staring aimlessly into space. "Burke. He... I think he's part of the Junior Academic Decathlon? Seen him... during practices." She sniffs and quickly swipes at her eyes. "I'd tell you it wasn't your fault, but I guess I know you better."

He looks away. "T-the bullet... I could sense it with my Peter tingle a-and... it was so easy to just leap away, but he had to be a dumb, stupid hero wanna-be. Pushed the robber away and... and then..."

_It was so quick. So sudden. For all his reflexes and super strength he could only watch as the thug's partner brandishes the gun, points it at the boy's back...pulls the trigger..._

Peter feels MJ's eyes on him. He pulls his knees to his chest, averting his gaze as he scrutinizes his shoelaces. He does not think he could stand to see MJ's expression. "I just wish I could've done something."

"But you did."

"MJ, don't--"

"Peter, I'm being serious!" she says, upset. "Y-you can blame yourself all you want but I-I'm not gonna... I won't let you sit there and... and lie to yourself. You were fighting them... You couldn't have known. And... and you took the kid to the hospital." Her voice softens. Peter feels the warmth of her hand on his.

"You did what you could."

He does not respond to this. He hears MJ sigh.

"I know you don't believe me."

"Sorry," he mutters immediately.

"You really don't have to say sorry, Peter."

"Sorry," he says again. MJ shoots him a fond yet exasperated look. "Force of habit?" he offers.

MJ chokes out a laugh. And then her expression becomes somber. "What do you want to do?"

"What?"

"I-I mean... We've been here a while now. And we probably missed Calc... probably gonna get detention for it too... So...I don't know..." She shrugs. "maybe just go... all in?"

_Ah._

Peter stands up and reaches out a hand to MJ. She takes it and gets on her feet. Her eyebrows are raised.

"I'm going to visit him." Peter says. "You don't--"

"I don't have to come with you, yes, I know." She tilts her head, smiling slightly at the surprised look on his face. "Heh.... guess I do know you too well."

He leans in and kisses her on the lips before he wraps her arms around her. MJ embraces him just as tightly. For all her brashness, Peter almost feels like she did not want him to go.

"Be safe," she whispers.

He swallows. "I know." Even he could hear the tremble in his voice.

"And Peter?"

"Yeah?"

A pause. And then, "I hope you know we'll be in detention for a long, _long_ time."

And for the first time since the entire ordeal has happened, Peter laughs. It was a raspy one, and he feels his heart squeeze and his eyes well up, but he stems the emotion, not wanting to break down again. Detention seemed such a mundane and inconsequential trouble to him now, but if that is the only thing to look forward to after this nightmare then he'll take it. He holds on to it like a lifeline: a stark reminder of his old life, before guilt and death and suffering and pain. A semblance of normality, no matter how small it may be.

"Yeah," he finally says. "I know."

* * *

An hour or so later Peter stands outside of the door of the intensive care unit at the Lenox Hill Hospital.

The journey had been hell. As soon as he had entered the foyer of the hospital a surge of apprehension takes over his senses, so overpowering that it made him nauseous. It took every ounce effort that Peter had to stop himself from just running away, to steel himself towards the reception desk. He had then stammered out the patient's name, and the nurse (with a look of sympathy) directed him to where he needed to go.

With each step he took Peter could feel his feet grow heavier and heavier. The insides of his stomach seemed to be twisting and writhing with dread. By the time he had reached his destination he is gripping the right shoulder strap of his backpack so tightly that it hurt.

He takes deep, fortifying breaths.

And then he pushes the door open.

The first thing Peter notices is the slow, rhythmic beat of the heart monitor. He sees Burke right away; his broken body, attached with tubes that connected to the humming machines at either side of him, looked so small against the huge hospital bed. Burke is pale, and deathly still, straw-blonde locks plastered all over his gaunt, sallow face. The slow rising and falling of his chest are the only signs of life. Peter clenches his jaw and sits down on the visiting chair.

"Uh... hey, Thomas," he starts. "Uh... Hey...y-you know, today I learned that I... we actually go to the same school... And... and when I heard it I... you know I just think it's the craziest thing... I m-mean... If you f-finding out that Spider-man is just a high schooler isn't crazy enough..."

Peter's throat constricts, but he carries on.

"I gotta say... What you did last night... It wasn't very... very smart. You didn't have to do that... That spidey-sense thing... That was my department... And what-what did you have? Nothing... Just the courage to try to... To save someone you don't even know... without fear of your own life..."

As he says this a memory flashes in his mind's eye, as though viewed from a distant life.

_"What if somebody had died tonight?! Different story right, because that's on you! And if you died... I feel like that's on me..."_

"You know... you know, Mr. Stark was actually right about that," Peter says. He is suddenly shaking again. "Because if it weren't for me you won't be here. If it weren't for me you'd be at school, preparing for the decathlon. He's right... I-It was all on me..."

His throat is too obstructed now. Peter lets his head fall unto his hands, and his fingers clutch his hair as a storm of memories flood at him, all horrible and unbearable...

_Blood... So much blood. A terrible stab of panic seized him, and he left his opponent sprawled on the ground, wheezing.... Ran to check on the boy, only to find that his breathing was quick and shallow...._

He does not know how long he sat there, reliving everything over and over again. His head only snaps upward when he hears the door creak open. A man and a woman hover by the doorway, no doubt confused by his presence.

"What are you doing here?" The man says sharply. "Do you know our son?"

His stomach lurches.

Peter scrambles to his feet. "I--uhm..." He desperately casts around for something to say. "Your s-son, Thomas... He's my... schoolmate--"

"Schoolmate?" The man, Mr. Burke, echoes. There is a bite of incredulity in his voice."You go to Midtown Tech?"

"Y-yes sir," he stammers. "He... I was there when he... last night, I saw him...when he did a brave thing--"

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

"Brave?!" Mr. Burke says roughly. "He didn't do a thing, boy! Caught in a crossfire, that's what happened, and it was all that damn Spider-man's fault! He could've stopped him, sent him home... What kind of hero allows a kid to get shot?!"

Peter flinches. Unbidden, Jameson's words ring in his ears, haunting him... _A charlatan... A fraud... Couldn't even pull the kid to safety..._

"John, please," the woman whispers. Her eyes are red and puffy, but she sounded a lot calmer than her husband. "Tommy might not be alive at all if it wasn't for him... _Spider-man_ brought him to the hospital--"

"Well he didn't do a very good fucking job, did he?" Mr. Burke shouts back. "Because if he did, _he_ should've been the one lying in here!"

He stomps out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Mrs. Burke exhales a shaky breath, and offers Peter a sad, weary smile.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she says softly. "It's been a hard night for everybody."

"No, Ma'am." Peter cannot meet her eyes, because he does not want her to see the guilt etched so clearly on them. "He's right. It was Spider-man's fault."

Mrs. Burke opens her mouth as if in protest. But then she shakes her head, pats him on the shoulder and exits the room, leaving Peter more miserable than ever.

* * *

He is sitting at the waiting area, hours later (he thinks it's already half-past two), when he receives the call from May.

_"Peter, did you skip class?! Where are you? Are you alright? Do you need help?"_

He winces at her barrage of questions. "May, I'm fine," he tells her. "I..uh... I just had to do something..."

There is a short pause at the other end of the line.

"Peter, you have to tell me the truth." The anger has dissipated-- she only sounds anxious now. "It's all over the news -- I know what happened last night. I've been worried sick about you, Peter."

He clenches a fist on his lap and ducks his head, his throat suddenly dry.

"I'm sorry," he croaks. He sniffs and wipes his face with his sleeve. "I'm sorry I left school. I can't just sit there and not know... I had to go to the hospital... I had to see him..."

Another moment of silence. And then, "oh God. _Oh, Peter..._ "

She sounded so, so sad. Peter clears his throat and gathers his composure.

"I'm fine, May, I swear," he says, in what he thinks is a convincingly firm and steady tone. "I'll be home soon."

"Okay. Do you want me to pick you up?"

He shakes his head, then remembers she cannot see him. "N-no. I'll be fine. I'll see you later."

"Alright. You come home safe." Her voice begins to tremble. "God, Peter. I love you so much."

He swallows. "I love you too."

As he hangs up the call Mr and Mrs. Burke comes out of the ICU and approaches him. Both look hopeful. Relieved. He stands to meet them.

"Tommy is awake," Mrs. Burke tells him. Despite the shadows underneath her eyes she already looks ten years younger. "He says he wants to talk to you."

"Me?" Peter says, startled. "Why?"

"He would not say," says Mr. Burke. He draws close and claps Peter's back. "Listen, I owe you an apology," he says gruffly. "I shouldn't have yelled at you today. My mistake. Shouldn't have lost my temper, and besides... it's not like you were Spider-man..."

Peter really, _really_ does not know what to answer to that, so he only nods and twists the door handle open.

Tommy's head cranes towards him as Peter enters. He has barely taken a few steps forward when Tommy mutters, "Y-you're... Spider-man...."

Peter stops dead in his tracks.

"What?"

"You don't have to...pretend. Besides... I wasn't really asleep."

Peter stares incredulously at him. He collapses onto the chair. "God... I'm so sorry... I thought you were--"

"Don't!" Tommy looks incredibly upset. "I... I _knew_ what I was doing."

"But you got shot--"

"I m-met you when I was seven years old."

Peter wavers.

"Remember... remember Washington? It was six years ago, a-and the decathlon just finished... I was on the ground when... the elevator went down... But you saved everyone..."

That seemed so long ago to Peter. There's a great divide in his life when the Blip occured; everything seemed so different now.

"What you did... It stuck with me... So when you were gone for five years, I thought... maybe you got dusted too... and then, you came back and fought again...".

_All the screams, all the chaos... sheltering himself behind the huge debris of the building, fear choking him whole as he ran from Thanos, wondering if this was how he dies, caught in a maelstrom of fire... Cradling the lifeless body of Tony Stark..._

"And when I saw you again, in London, fighting off those drones... It gave me s-strength that I could do what's right... And when I'm in trouble... I ask myself... what would Spider-man do..."

Peter's insides plummeted.

"I'm not the hero you think I am," he says, distressed. "I am... I'm just a sixteen-year-old kid from Queens, messing everything up wherever I go!" Peter shakes his head bitterly. "I'm no one to look up too."

"That's not true!" Tommy rasps, and he actually made to get up from his bed. Peter stands up in concern, but Tommy pays him no heed. It is clear that it is taking every last bit of strength in him to continue talking, his face draining of what little color it had gained for the past few hours. "All the odds you faced! The heat you take for being a menace! Even though you might not have won, you get back up! I-if that's not a h-hero--!"

Tommy's breaths are short and labored. And then suddenly his body goes entirely rigid, eyes rolling inside his skull, as the heart monitor's beeps grow quicker, more incessant...

"Tommy?! _Tommy, are you_ \-- SOMEONE HELP!" The scream tears his voice raw, but he does not care. "HELP!! PLEASE!"

The door bursts open. Rough hands shove him away from the bed, as a team of doctors surround Tommy. One of them shouts, "HE'S GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST!"

He could only stand there, and instead of going haywire, his senses become paralyzed... numb... as if it sees the inevitable... doctors flash around him... he hears wailing, screams... everything is a blur...

And then the heart monitor goes silent.

* * *

When Peter looks back at it, a week or so later, he only has the faintest recollections of what had happened the next few days after the visit in the hospital. It almost felt like he was in a trance, as though his body had gone on complete autopilot. He however did remember getting detention for skiving off, although it was slightly more bearable with MJ by his side, showing him bad drawings of the bored-out-of-their-minds people that surrounded them. Ned and MJ had somehow reached an unspoken agreement of not badgering Peter for questions about that day. Peter was thankful for that; after all is said and done, he figured that he had been through too much for now.

They are talking inside the empty band room one afternoon when the visit is brought up again.

Ned and MJ had been arguing over an old show that had recently been brought to Netflix. Peter does not participate, and is quite happy enough to listen to them talk; he seems most at peace when he is in their company.

"--look, I'm pretty sure that glass bending is a real thing. If sand and metal bending exist--"

"Why'd you wanna bend glass when you can bend blood?"

Ned ogles at MJ. "Okay, first of all, that is really freaky--"

Their conversation is interrupted by the crackle of the PA speaker.

_"Peter Parker, if you are still in the school premises, you are asked to proceed to the principal's office immediately."_

They all exchange glances.

"Why does Mr. Morita want you in his office?" Ned asks slowly.

"No idea," Peter says, even though that was a complete lie. He had a pretty good idea of why he is being summoned. Sure enough, when he arrives at the office he sees Mr. and Mrs. Burke sitting on Mr. Morita's couch. Thy are both talking to him. Peter sucks in a breath and knocks on the door.

Mr. Morita spots Peter and beckons for him to come in. Peter does so, clutching the right shoulder strap of his bag so hard he is sure his knuckles had turned white.

"No need to be nervous, Peter," Mr. Morita says, not unkindly. He gestures at the chair opposite to the Burkes. "Sit down, alright? Mr. and Mrs. Burke just wants to ask a few questions about... about Thomas."

Peter nods and sits down. He doesn't think he can continue standing up, anyway. He feels rather sick.

To make matters worse, Mr. Morita then leaves the room, no doubt at a gallant attempt of privacy. Now it is just Peter, Tommy's parents, and a nasty, unbearable silence. He feels so small in front of them, and unconsciously he finds his upper torso almost curled up, gaze fixed at the floor. He cannot look at them in the eyes...surely they must hate him... blame him for what happened.... and he would deserve every bit of it....

"You know, we never really got a proper introduction," Mrs. Burke says. Peter looks up, confused. Of all the things that he has been expecting them to say, this is definitely not it.

"I'm Laura, and this is my husband John. And you--" Her lip twitches at this, as though she might cry but is trying hard not to, "--we know who _you_ are."

"You do?"

"I'm sorry... it must come as a shock. But Tommy... before Tommy asked for us to get you in the waiting room, he told us who you are. He says you're Peter Parker, that you're part of the decathlon too, and that... that your Stark Enterprises internship allowed you to be in touch with... With Spider-man."

She hands him a small, brown envelope. Peter takes it, mouth too dry to speak.

"Peter, if it isn't... too much trouble... I-I mean, Tommy wanted Spider-man to have it, and since you..."

He finds his voice.

"Of course," he says hoarsely. "I-I'd be more than willing to."

Mrs. Burke's lined face breaks into a gentle smile. "Thank you." She gets to her feet. Mr. Burke, who had said nothing during the meeting, does the same.

"You take care of yourself, Peter."

They are by the door when he finally speaks up.

"Ma'am," he sounds desperate, as he tries to push out the words that he wanted to say, "Mr. and Mrs. Burke I am so, so sorry for your loss..."

It's as if a band has tightened around his chest, making it difficult to breathe... to speak...

But he does not need to bother: Mr. Burke has turned back to him. His expression has softened now, and for once Peter could see Tommy's striking resemblance to his father.

"You're a good kid, Peter," Mr. Burke mutters to him. He puts an arm around his wife's shoulders and swings the door open. He halts.

"Tell Spider-man...tell him not to blame himself."

* * *

It is already half-past three in the morning when May Parker _finally_ hears her nephew's bedroom window open.

She lays in bed, unmoving, giving him at least a few more minutes to feign sleep before she goes and checks up on him. Peter had gone to bed quite early that evening, non-chalantly bidding her good night, which usually meant that he was planning to sneak out and do some more nightly patrolling as Spider-man. Of course, the sneaking-out part meant that she shouldn't have known about his nightly escapades in the first place, but May isn't stupid. He may be an Avenger, but Peter is her kid. And said kid had never really been good with keeping secrets.

Quietly, May gets out of bed and creeps towards his bedroom, before gently pushing the door open. She crosses her arms and leans on the door frame, an affectionate smile on her lips.

Peter has collapsed right on top of his bed covers, still in his Spider-man suit, albeit without the mask . He is already asleep.

She sits down at the edge of his bed and brushes away a stray curl on his forehead. Her heart breaks a little as she takes in the bruises littered all over Peter's face. Perhaps this is the part of her nightly check-ups that she likes the least. She knows that the injuries would probably be gone in the morning, but seeing them now, in the middle of the healing process, is only proof that her boy had been hurt, and that although they disappear, still doesn't change the fact that he had experienced pain. A lot of it. And yet...

_And yet..._

Something is different with Peter tonight. It takes her a while to realize that Peter hasn't slept this soundly since the incident.

May shudders at the memory. The night right after the hospital visit might have been one of the worst so far. Peter had woken up screaming so badly that she was by his side in an instant, trying to console him. The nights after that weren't that much better; sometimes May would catch him tossing and turning, face scrunched up in despair. So to see him here, features relaxed and peaceful, makes her strangely relieved, as though releasing a breath she didn't know she has been holding for a very long time. Because she couldn't think of anyone who deserves a break more than Peter. After all that he has been through, May thinks he needs it more than anyone else.

And then, just as she takes his mask by his pillow to place it on his bedside table, she spots it.

An open brown envelope. And beside it, a sheet of paper; it seemed like Peter had been clutching it as he fell asleep. Slowly May takes it from him, smoothing it out. Peter stirs sleepily, but does not wake up. The top header read _Homework 1.1: Who is your superhero?_

And just below that was a crayon drawing of Spider-man, hand in hand with a little kid. Both are beaming. Along with it was a carefully scribbled poem. It was signed by Thomas Burke.

With a jolt, she realizes what it is.

At breakfast she does not mention the letter to Peter, nor does she confront him about his nightly patrol. She does not think she needs to, anyway; the look of determination on Peter's face as he bids her good bye tells her everything she needs to know.

She is sure that the letter's words will continue ringing in his head. Just as they reverberated in hers long after the sun is up:

_Spider-man is the greatest hero_  
_and always does what's right._  
_He doesn't care about the odds,_  
_Or how impossible the fight._

_He isn't always perfect,_  
_And he isn't always smart._  
_But Spidey knows I have his back,_  
_Because I listen to my heart._

_Even if he falls,_  
_he always gets back on his feet._  
_He's taught me how to be a hero_  
_And to never accept defeat._

_So when I'm feeling sad,_  
_And I don't know what to do--_  
_I close my eyes and say out loud,_  
_"What would Spider-man do?"_

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing with this fic, because I was able to rewrite the story while trying to fit in the entire relationship dynamic that Peter has in the MCU, while trying to take into account his past traumas in that Universe's context as well. The poem was lifted verbatim from the original comic, so thank you to writer Kevin Grevioux and Lee Weeks for making me cry at 3 AM in the morning. Anyway, come holler at me on my tumblr @ ennas-aesthetic if you wanna, and thanks for sticking around! (I also accept requests :>)


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